Gone
by Bohemian Storm
Summary: Nearing the end of the war Sirius struggles to find Remus in the Forbidden Forest. Mild slash RL/SB


**Gone**

By Bohemian Storm

Disclaimer:  They belong to J.K. Rowling.  If I owned them they'd be living at my house.

Notes:  This is slash people.  Very mild slash, but it's still slash.  If you don't like it go away

            Running.  It was the only thing he would remember about the night it happened; running through the Forbidden Forest, darting past groups of wizards cursing each other, killing each other.  Running past the words flung in his direction and the hands stretching toward him for help.  He couldn't worry about the ones that wanted him, not now when there was someone so important to him that needed his help.  So he ran, ducking beneath low hanging branches and picking his way quickly over roots and stones.

            He didn't know how he knew Remus needed, only that he did.  It wasn't as though they'd had some kind of mental connection, but maybe it was something left over from all the years they'd been friends.  Whatever it was he was grateful for it.  He didn't know if there was a reason it had come now, but now was when it was most needed.  Everything in his mind was screaming at him to find Remus and help him, every muscle was working just to get him where he needed to be.

            He wondered if this was what dying was like . . . everyone said that your life flashed before your eyes the second that you died and that it didn't seem like a second to you.  It stretched on and on, showing you everything you never wanted to forget.  As he ran he could see Remus's golden eyes, haunting him, telling him things before the other man's mouth even formed the words.  He could see all the times they'd laughed together, playing out before him like a Muggle movie.  He could see Lily and James handing Harry over to Remus; Remus holding the tiny baby like he was the most precious cargo in the entire world.  All that was gone now.

            If this was what dying was like he didn't want Remus to have to go through it.  It hurt to remember all the good times they'd had when they had been young and everything had made so much sense.  Things had been easy; a smile had meant the world when you were younger while they meant so little as you grew jaded and cold.  Years ago a smile from a friend had been a promise of 'friends forever' and now it was nothing more than the contraction of the right muscles.

            He had seen far too many cold smiles to pretend that he was still a naive child.  For years he had wasted away in Azkaban, suffering through torments most of the world didn't even know existed and he had come out alive.  During this final war he wasn't going to lose the only person who had kept him sane during the twelve years he had spent rotting in that hole.  He wouldn't let Remus leave him so easily, not when there was an entire world left for them to explore.

            So, as Voldemort and his Death Eaters waged the last great war of the wizarding world around him, Sirius Black ran as fast as he could, following the trail of his best friend.

            Somewhere in the woods was a werewolf, running as fast as he could over roots and rocks.  The wolf would stop to smell the air, catching a hint of the blood spilled near the school and would turn in that direction.  

            With a cautious glance over his shoulder, Sirius kept running, allowing his human form to melt away and the dog to come out.  He could follow with greater speed as the animagus than he could in human form.

            _"Just call me Snuffles."_

            He could practically hear Remus laughing at him already and was thankful for a moment that his friend had never discovered the code name Harry and his friends has used during their days at Hogwarts.

            His paws flew over the damp ground, barely making a mark in the dirt beneath them.  The scent was easier to follow as the dog, his nose turning up on occasion to make sure he was still on the right track.

            More memories brushed past him, some clearer than others, one standing out above all the rest.  Weeks before the fourth year Yule Ball Sirius had turned to Remus in a panic.  He had a date with the most gorgeous girl in their year and . . . he didn't know how to dance.  He was sure he would die of embarrassment when James and Peter had walked in on Remus teaching Sirius how to tango.  More than that, he had thought he would drop dead because they'd know just by looking at him that dancing with Remus had felt so right.

            The dog slowed and paused, his nose turning to the night air once more.  Remus had stopped moving and Sirius was suddenly very sure that he'd never have another chance to touch Remus, let alone dance with him.  The blood should have drawn the wolf back toward the school but there was something stopping him, something in the woods was preventing him from going anywhere.

            Sirius drew alongside a tree and let his body fold out, his arms once more becoming those of a man, his neck tensed and eyes alert.  Whatever was happening to his friend it was happening nearby.  There was silence, distant shouts of Death Eaters and Aurors from the direction he had come and then a muffled growl reached his ears.  Sirius blinked, then turned briskly, staring into the dark forest.  The soft grunt of a man was heard and another growl before he began to walk silently over leaves and the wet dirt.  

            He traveled in the direction of the noises, thinking of all the horrible thing he'd see when the trees bent back to reveal exactly what was going on.  Someone had set out that night to kill the werewolf and Sirius knew there were only so many ways to do such a thing.  He didn't want to think about them, he knew that every single one of them would be painful.

            Another growl came to him followed by a piercing yelp and Sirius closed his eyes against the noise, steadying himself against the rough bark of a tree trunk.  Here in the dark forest he could pretend that the war going on back at the school was just a dream and that he wasn't actually waking into the depths of the trees looking for his best friend and expecting to find him injured or dead.  He could pretend that the screams carried to his ears by the wind were just figments of his imagination.  The war wasn't really happening.  Voldemort hadn't really come back.

            "I've waited so long for this," a thin voice came through the trees and Sirius snapped to attention.  It was a voice he knew, a voice he hated to remember.  

            "So long," the voice continued, dropping to a low hiss.  

            Sirius sidled carefully through the trees, pushing back branches as quietly as he could.  His feet threatened to slip on the wet leaves and mud but he held his balance and entered the clearing with soft steps.  As he raised his eyes to take in the sight before him a breath of air became trapped in his throat.  He struggled to breathe, to let the oxygen reach his brain and erase the scene before him that was so obviously a hallucination.  There was no way it could be real.  It couldn't be real because Sirius knew that Remus wasn't allowed to die.  It was that simple.

            Remus wasn't allowed to die.

            In the clearing Peter Pettigrew knelt over the rigid form of a werewolf.  The werewolf was in such pain that his lips were peeled back to reveal his gleaming teeth clenched together.  His body was arched in a way that seemed unnatural to the wolf, lending itself more to a human in great pain.

            Peter's silver hand, his present from Voldemort, was twisting violently in werewolf's chest, buried up to his wrist.  Sirius didn't understand how he was doing it, only that he was.  Peter had Remus's heart in his hand . . . his silver hand and he was squeezing the life out of it.

            He fumbled with his wand for what seemed like forever.  Sirius was sure that those wasted moments he spent playing with his wand were the moments that killed Remus.  He was prepared to blame himself, but another glance at the scene told him everything he needed to know.  The hair was melting away from Remus's form and he had relaxed slightly, the glow in his amber eyes darkening in the night.

            "No!" Sirius growled, pushing his way past trees.  

            Peter looked up, shock registering in his tiny eyes.  He barely had time to move before the green light gathered at the end of Sirius's wand and struck him in the chest.  For a horrible second Sirius thought that the curse hadn't killed Peter.  His hand was still buried in Remus's chest, his eyes still wide with surprise, his back still hunched over Remus.  Then he toppled over backward, a disgusting squelching noise following the removal of his magical hand from Remus's body.

            As Sirius watched, wanting to be sure that Peter was dead, the wolf turned back into the man.  That moment was when Sirius knew that Remus was going to die.  The full moon had stopped affecting him and he was going to die.

            "Moony?" he whispered softly, going to his friend and stepping over Peter's fallen body.  The silver hand that had killed his friend gleamed in the moonlight, shimmering blood staining the fingers and palm.

            Remus blinked, his eyes looking like candles that were only seconds from going out forever.

            "Moony, I'm here," Sirius said, kneeling beside him and taking one of Remus's hands in his own.  He shifted slightly, lifting Remus's head to settle it in his lap.  "You'll be okay now.  Peter's dead."

            Remus blinked again.  "Peter's dead?"

            Sirius nodded.  "He's dead.  He can't hurt you anymore."

            A tired smile stole across Remus's face.  "But he's already done the damage, hasn't he?"

            Sirius shook his head.  "You'll be okay."

            "You were always such a good liar, Padfoot."  Remus smiled again, turning his face slightly and nuzzling against Sirius's leg.  "Thank you."

            "I'll get you back to Hogwarts," Sirius said, squeezing Remus's hand. "You'll make it."

            Remus looked upward, his eyes on the full moon.  "I'm not a werewolf anymore, Sirius.  I'm just a man."

            Sirius nodded, watching his friend apprehensively.  Remus hadn't called him anything but Padfoot for years and hearing his real name pass over his lips was like hearing Remus's last wish.  It broke his heart.

            "You're just a man," Sirius agreed.

            "I like being just a man," Remus decided, still staring at the moon.  "I wish I always could have been just a man."

            "But then you wouldn't have been Moony," Sirius pointed out.

            "I wouldn't have been Moony," Remus repeated, his eyes looking even more dull than they had moments ago.  "Do you . . ." he trailed off, smiling softly.  "Do you remember the time I tried to teach you to dance?"

            Sirius nodded, running a calloused hand over Remus's forehead.  "I remember."

            "That was fun."

            "Yeah, Moony, that was a lot of fun."

            "I wanted to be a good teacher," Remus said.

            "You were the best teacher," Sirius replied, his fingers still brushing back Remus's hair.  "You were the best dance partner I ever had, that's for sure."

            The amber eyes met his dark ones.  "That is saying something," he whispered.

            Sirius smiled and leaned down to press a kiss against Remus's forehead.  "I guess so."

            A strained smile crossed Remus's lips.  "Padfoot, will you tell me something?"

            "Anything."

            "Why couldn't you have done that when it still mattered?"           

            Sirius paused.  "Done what?"

            "Kissed me."

            Silence fell around them and Sirius studied his dying friend.  It was a good question.  Why hadn't he done it when it had still mattered?

            "I don't know, Remus," he replied.

            "Did you ever want to?"

            Sirius's fingers whisked over his forehead again.  Even if he hadn't he would have lied to the dying man to tell him what he wanted to hear.  In this case though, Sirius didn't have to lie to make Remus happy.

            "Every day.  Even the days that I didn't see you."

            Remus smiled softly.  "Oh."

            "Especially the day you tried to teach me to tango," Sirius said.  "That day could have been my undoing."

            Another smile graced the bloodless lips of his friend.  "I wish it had been."

            Sirius shifted, laying Remus's head carefully on the ground, still clutching his hand.  "Me too, Remus."

            "You haven't called me Remus in so long."

            "I want you to know I didn't ever think of you as 'the werewolf'.  You were Remus, Moony, my friend.  You were . . . you."

            "I know."

            Sirius dropped his lean body to the ground, curling himself protectively around Remus.  After a brief hesitation he dropped forward, his lips brushing against his friend's.  From below came a sharp intake of breath, then a trembling hand against his temple.

            Sirius moved away slowly, staring down at Remus.

            "Stay with me until I'm gone?" Remus asked.

            Tears came to Sirius's eyes for the first time since he'd found Remus and he nodded, biting his lip.  Words wouldn't come to him, so he just pressed the hand that was shaking at his temple against his face and kissed the palm.  He leaned on one elbow, his other arm dropping to Remus's face and tracing patterns on his cheek.  Remus smiled softly and closed his eyes and Sirius had to resist the urge to ask him to open them once more.  He knew that his friend was tired and broken; he knew that he was dying but to see those golden eyes just one final time would be a heaven sent gift.

            As the breath left Remus's body, Sirius let the tears finally fall, silent drops splashing onto Remus's closed eyelids and trickling off his face.  His trembling lips pressed another kiss on Remu's forehead, biting back the sobs as he realized that Remus really was gone.

End


End file.
